Entrapment

by Aleatha Romig

  “Yes.”

  “Do it. Call the house. I’m not leaving until I speak to Miss Collins.”

  Perspiration dotted the security guard’s forehead and upper lip. “Sir, you can be escorted off the property. This is privately owned…”

  I gripped the edge of the envelope tighter. “Call. If she tells me to leave, I’ll leave.” Isaac’s eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.

  As the guard stepped back inside the small building, I eased open the flap of the envelope. The one page unfolded as I freed it from the envelope.

  Lennox,

  I know this seems sudden, but it isn’t. My mother needs me. Don’t try to reach me. My phone is off. I need time with my family.

  I need more than time and space. I need—no I want—to do what I have known I would do my entire life. I can’t do that and continue seeing you. We are done. Forget about Del Mar. Forget the rules.

  Go back to New York. Send my school things. Everything else you can keep or burn. I don’t care. Move on with your life.

  I am moving on with mine.

  Goodbye,

  Alex

  Rules.

  My eyes locked on that word as my teeth clenched. It wasn’t her, but who would know about the rules?

  “Sir,” the man outside my window pulled my attention away from the letter, the writing, and words. I didn’t want to look away. No longer was I a CFO of Demetri Enterprises or even a concerned boyfriend. I was a detective, deciphering each clue.

  Did the writing look like it could be hers? It could. It was similar, feminine. However, the wording made me skeptical. Fuck skeptical. I don’t know how in the fuck they knew about the rules, but in my heart, I knew this letter wasn’t written or even dictated by my Charli.

  “Yes?” I finally replied, pulling my gaze away from the letter and narrowing it toward the guard.

  “Miss Collins said to tell you that the letter is self-explanatory and to please leave.”

  The ends of my lips rose. “Are we being recorded?”

  The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why?”

  “It’s a simple question. I want to know if Mr. Fitzgerald will see this.”

  “I’m not sure who will…”

  I peered up to the roofline of the small building. Just under the eave was a protruding dark dome. I cocked my head to the side. “Please tell Alex that I got her letter and hear her loud and clear. This isn’t over.”

  “Sir?”

  I tapped Isaac’s shoulder. “We can go.” I turned back to the guard, his complexion paling by the second. “Tell Mr. Fitzgerald to rest assured, we will be back.”

  IT TOOK ME a few seconds to process… the turning of the tumblers… the rapid beating of my heart…

  I was locked inside my childhood bedroom.

  My heart continued to pound, the beat no longer contained in my chest, but hammering in my ears.

  Slowly, I turned, not stopping until I made a complete circle.

  My room—the familiar wallpaper.

  My bed—the floral cover and eyelet skirt and canopy.

  My windows—their draperies pulled, bound by ropes of satin to reveal the cobblestone driveway below.

  Everything was as it had been, months ago, years ago… forever.

  Unchanged.

  The thought of thriller movies and books itched at my consciousness. Had I ever left? Had I ever been free? Or in some sick twist of fate, was I where I’d always been and everything else—Nox, Stanford, and Columbia—was but a dream, an illusion?

  As shadows of the past lurked in the dim corners, I reached for my necklace. The diamond-dusted cage did more than roll between the pads of my fingers. It was my reassurance and confirmation that I had been free. I had lived a life away from Montague Manor.

  I took a deep breath.

  Though a million thoughts of friends, foes, and family ran through my mind, with the necklace in my grasp, I momentarily closed my eyes. Behind my lids I saw Nox’s light blue eyes swirling with emotion. The swirls weren’t an indication of the passion I craved or even the anger I anticipated. The concoctions of blue were filled with pride and appreciation.

  Never once had Nox demeaned my dreams. His constant encouragement, whether I was reading a ridiculously boring case study or working into the early morning on a paper, was omnipresent. “You can do this, princess. I know you can. Not only are you beautiful, you’re the most intelligent woman I know. I’m coming for you, but in the meantime, you’ve got this. You’re smarter than them. I’m coming and I love you. Don’t let the shadows win.”

  It was like when I’d seen Jane. She hadn’t spoken her encouragement, yet I’d heard it. My rapid pulse slowed as I opened my eyes and turned another circle. His deep voice was so real it reverberated through me, to my core, yet I was hearing with my heart and not my ears.

  Swallowing the continually rising bile, I assessed my situation. The current problem at hand wasn’t my mother, Chelsea, or even the accusations that Nox’s father was responsible for the shooting. I couldn’t do anything about or for any of them if I were locked in my bedroom. I had to concentrate on my current predicament.

  As my slow spin came to a stop, I was once again facing the door.

  That prick had locked it from the outside.

  My teeth clenched and shadows faded as my indignation grew.

  I wasn’t a child capable of being sent to my room, yet that was what had happened.

  And for a moment, I’d allowed it. Now, I recognized the error of my thinking. My childhood room wasn’t exactly the same. As a child—and up to and including my last visit—I’d been the one to lock my bedroom door from the inside. It had been my security, knowing that the door would stay shut and unwanted visitors would stay out.

  This time was different. The door had been locked from the outside.

  I crouched low, leveling my eye with the lock. The keyhole provided a small glimpse—a peephole—to the corridor. A sigh escaped my lips as I shook my head. Either Bryce was an idiot and didn’t understand the function of skeleton keys and locks or he’d taken the key on purpose to allow me to escape.

  One more time, I turned and scanned the room. It was time to learn if it really were unchanged.

  Making my way to my dresser, I opened the bottom right drawer. Inside were clothes I hadn’t worn in years, neatly folded in small stacks. Running my hand to the back of the drawer, I brushed the tips of my fingers along the drawer’s seam. My lungs forgot to inhale as I moved them from left to right, and then, the tip of my fingers brushed it.

  One of the extra keys.

  Skeleton keys…

  Within Montague Manor, they were all the same. It had been a fact that had led to many sleepless nights, but this time, now, it brought a smile to my face. I wasn’t locked in nor could I be, as long as I possessed a key.

  I hurried to my jewelry box, still sitting atop a bookcase near my old television. It looked just like it had years ago, not even a speck of dust. Opening the delicate top doors, I revealed the uppermost compartment. It was designed with lines of indentions. Each one was made to hold a ring. Small silver rings as well as those with birthstones filled some of the indentions. With only a pinch of the green velvet, I lifted the false bottom to reveal the hidden compartment. A smile formed as I peered down at another key.

  Over the years, I’d acquired quite the collection. I was certain there were at least three or four others hidden throughout the room.

  With the first key secured in my pocket, I replaced the velvet lining and left the second key hidden. Of course, none of them would work if Bryce had left the key askew in the other side of the lock. That was unless I had the long needle-nosed instrument to turn the key from within. The tool was shaped like an ice pick, with a curly tip. I believe it was originally used as something that aided in buttoning shoes—a long time ago. Unlike my supply of keys, I no longer had the funny-shaped device. I had one at one time, but during my last visit I’d noticed it was missing. At that ti
me it didn’t seem important. After all, I hadn’t planned to return.

  Now, here I am.

  Regardless of whether or not I had the long-nosed, twisted instrument, as long as there wasn’t another key in the lock on the other side of the door, I was free. More importantly, or at least equally important, with a key, I could keep the lock secured from my side.

  When I turned again, the telephone on the bedside stand caught my attention. Rushing forward, I lifted the receiver. When I was younger, the phone had mostly been used for intra-house communication. My mother would call or Jane. I could call the staff to bring me whatever I needed. Calls could be made outside of the manor, but mostly I’d used my cell phone for that.

  Lifting the receiver to my ear, I listened. It’s amusing how one holds his or her breath in anticipation, as if the breathing could obscure the distinct pitch of a dial tone. There was nothing to conceal.

  No dial tone.

  Only silence.

  Repeatedly, I pushed the long skinny button on the cradle. Nothing. As I reached for the cord, I noticed what should have been obvious. It was missing. The telephone wasn’t plugged into the wall. It was merely a decoration or perhaps, a taunt to highlight my isolation.

  “You can do this, princess.” The deep timbre reverberated in my soul.

  Patting the key in my pocket, I hung up the useless phone. I needed to bide my time until later and sneak downstairs to a telephone that worked. When I did, I’d call Nox. I’d hear the tenor that I loved, not in my mind, but through the receiver.

  Once again, I fingered the small platinum cage hanging from my necklace and closed my eyes. If I could hear him, perhaps he could hear me. I spoke with my mind and my heart.

  Nox, I’m here. I’ll come back to you, I promise. I have to see my mother. I have to be sure she’s safe and getting better. Please don’t give up on me. I need your strength and encouragement.

  If only I hadn’t insisted that the necklace not have an audio connection to Deloris or Demetri security. When I’d made that request, I’d been concerned about people listening to our private moments, but now… Now, I wished with all my might that I could speak to him, to let him know I was safe and would return.

  Marry Bryce!

  The absurdity of Alton’s proclamation washed over me. Pacing the length of my room, I shook my head.

  Ludicrous!

  What made Alton and Bryce think that I’d go along with this archaic edict? As if my grandfather could dictate my future from his grave. It was ridiculous.

  Do I want to see my mother? And do I want her to get better?

  I sank to the edge of my bed as Alton’s questions returned to my mind. With a sigh, I lay back and stared up at the underside of the canopy. What was happening with her? What drugs had she taken? Why would she do that? How did her condition get this out of hand without anyone seeing or noticing?

  My eyes opened wide as I quickly sat and moved my gaze to the door.

  Shit! The key was still in my pocket.

  The tumblers turned. Their clicks filled the silence, interrupted only by the once-again increased beat of my heart. My gaze darted from side to side as I contemplated my next move. I could run to the door and try to insert the key.

  I’d waited too long. That wouldn’t work.

  I could run to the bathroom and lock that door.

  Again, too late.

  As the door began to move inward, I knew my only option was the same as downstairs. Face Alton head on.

  Standing, I swallowed and lifted my chin.

  The dark skin of her hand was the first thing I saw. Her beautiful big brown eyes were next.

  “Miss Alex…”

  I rushed forward. With each step my fight and strength evaporated. By the time her arms embraced my shoulders, tears coated my cheeks and my body liquefied against her bosom.

  “Hush, child. We need to talk.”

  Nodding, I took a step back as Jane turned and closed the door. Once she did, she inserted a key and turned it until the tumblers locked. Another small twist and the key was secure, only able to be removed from the other side with the long gadget.

  When she turned back toward me, Jane opened her hand. In her palm was another key. “For you.”

  I willingly took it, not explaining that I already had one in my pocket and others hidden around the room. Instead, I reached for the silver key and tightly squeezed it in my own fist. “Thank you, Jane.”

  “You’re a smart lady. You don’t need a lock to keep you here.”

  I nodded. “I don’t want to be here, but I-I can’t leave until I see Momma.”

  Jane reached for my hand and walked me back toward my bed. At the foot there was a long bench covered in light-yellow crushed velvet. As we both sat, she said, “That’s what I mean. You need to show him that you ain’t leaving. The door can be left wide open and you’re not going back to New York.”

  New York. Just the words hurt my heart.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Yes, you do. Your momma needs you.” Jane squeezed my hand. “Child, she needs you more than she’s ever needed anyone. You’re the one, the only one, who can help her.”

  I wiped a tear from my cheek. “Tell me about her.”

  Jane’s lips came together.

  “Jane, don’t hold back. I need to know.”

  “Child, she’s a strong woman. I know you may thinks she’s not, but she is. Heaven knows he don’t think so. But she’s more than strong.” Her brown eyes beamed. “She’s smart. She tried to do what’s right. She did. Don’t you ever doubt that. And she loves you, more than life, more than herself. You.”

  “What happened?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t know. She had pills from Dr. Beck. They help when she has her migraines. She had…”

  “What? She had what?”

  “A lot of them, but here’s the thing. I took them. She gave them to me for safekeeping. She’d been taking this other medicine, the one that keeps the headaches away, and they were happening less and less. I had her pain pills. I still do.”

  Jane stood and paced to the window and back. “I took all her prescriptions except the preventive ones. She was trying. I see her with water not wine.” Jane shrugged. “I don’t know. Then she start acting funny… strange-like. Saying things and getting confused. I called Dr. Beck and he came out here, more than once. But it got worse, not better. It don’t make sense.”

  I couldn’t follow. “What doesn’t make sense?”

  Jane stood, letting out a deep breath. “Mr. Fitzgerald, he got mad at Dr. Beck. He say that Dr. Beck wasn’t helping but making it worse. I couldn’t say anything. It’s not my place.”

  “What would you have said?”

  “I would have said that it wasn’t him—Dr. Beck wasn’t making it worse. The doctor would talk to me. He knows I love your momma. I’d do anything to help her.”

  My heart fluttered at her words. Jane was the glue that kept my momma and me together. She wasn’t an employee. I’d never seen her that way. When she said she loved, it was real and deep. It was the kind that made you feel warm and safe. Knowing that she’d been that for Momma made me smile.

  “Dr. Beck, he was worried,” Jane went on. “Your momma told him she wasn’t taking pills and honest to goodness, she wasn’t drinking like she used to… but… then she would.”

  “I’m not following.”

  Jane sank to the bench. “I can’t say what I think. I ain’t got no proof.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think your momma be a smart lady. I think she started to know things, things Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t want her to know. And I think she… she’s ill and she needs help. She needs you.”

  The anger I’d suppressed to be the obedient Alexandria that Alton required flooded my bloodstream, reminding me of who I really was. I stood and stared down at Jane. My question came out harsher than I’d intended. “Tell me. Do you think he did something?”

  Jane�
��s eyes opened wide.

  “I mean something new,” I clarified. “He wouldn’t poison her? Would he?”

  She lowered her chin as she shook her head. “I never thought so. I didn’t. I did everything to take care of her. Now with Dr. Beck’s questions and how fast it all happened… I don’t know.”

  I was now the one pacing. “Is Dr. Beck still seeing her?”

  “I don’t think so. I hear Mr. Fitzgerald and Miss Suzanna talking. I think Mr. Fitzgerald, he fired Dr. Beck and Mrs. Fitzgerald has a new doctor at that Magnolia place. But before that, Dr. Beck run tests. He said it wasn’t making sense and he wanted to know what was in her blood. He said the results take time.” She peered up, moisture filling her dark eyes. “I don’t think he has the answers yet.”

  “Jane, I need to talk to Dr. Beck.”

  She nodded. “Child, I got his number. But I think my phone’s being watched.” Her eyes widened. “I mean listened to.” She shook her head. “Can they do that? Or am I going crazy too? Maybe we all crazy?”

  I scoffed, thinking of Deloris. “Oh, no, Jane, you’re not crazy. I know they can do that. I’m not sure Alton knows how, but I’d guess he could pay someone. He took my phone. I don’t have any way to call, and Dr. Beck isn’t the only one I need to call.”

  “That young man?”

  I nodded as a sad smile filled my cheeks. “I need to let him know what’s happening. He’s, well…” I contemplated the best way to describe Nox. “…protective. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking or going through. Somehow I need to let him know that I’m okay. And then, there’s school. Alton said he’d let me call Columbia tomorrow, but I need my own way of communicating without him listening to every word.”

  “I don’t think my phone is your answer. You know how your momma used to call you on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “She stopped doing it. Said if she did, he’d know. I don’t know if he did or if it was part of the crazy. She never said more about it, but it scared me. So when you called this morning, I wasn’t sure what to say.”

  I sighed. That made sense as to why she sounded so strange.